The Diary of Dr Niles Crane
by Pat2Trivia4Me
Summary: Here is a story in entree form of the thoughts of Dr. Niles Crane. I hope you enjoy it.
1. 1991 11 24

N0V 24th, 1991 – I thought it would be best to start my diary with a quote from the Italian scientist and mathematician Galieo Galilei ~ "Wine is sunlight held together by water". I am laughing now. The irony of writing this while a Gambino red is resting in my wine glass on my desk in front of me is uncanny. I've just returned from its homeland. Italy is the dolce of life. It is always nice to visit. Michelangelo's David is astronomical. Each time, I am beside myself like I am seeing it for the first time. It was sculpted in 1504… but then again, I know that, so why am I writing it down? I also went to Sicily to the Gambino Winery. It's a great time of the year to go, while they are celebrating their new wine. Italy's minimum of 30 bottles shipping requirements, helped be in assembling a nice bouquet for my wine collection. Rome was just as incredible as it always was. The Vatican and Saint Peter's Basilica are places I will never tire of. Maris bought me a wine journal to keep me occupied while she does her yoga. I am thinking about next year's vacation in London. Perhaps one year Maris will change her mind and vacation with me rather than spending her vacation time at Neiman Marcus.


	2. 1991 11 26

N0V 26th, 1991 – As I am writing this, tears are uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks. My hands are trembling. Thank God it wasn't worse. I was having a night cap at home when Frank, my father's partner, called. Tonight, my father was shot when he walked into the middle of a quick mart hold up. He was shot in the hip. I just got back from seeing him in the hospital. Thank God he is only expected to be in the hospital for a few days. Even though we have dad over weekly for Sunday brunch, I feel ashamed that I haven't been around for my father as much as I should. I didn't get much of a chance to visit with him, but tomorrow I will check in on him before picking Frasier up at the airport. One moment one is sitting down to read the reviews on the latest art gallery and the next, one gets a call that will turn one's world upside down. It sure is funny how people take family for granted until something like this happens. Can't stop sobbing… I have to go now…


	3. 1991 12 01

DEC 1st, 1991 – My diary is off to an auspicious start. I say that with a hint of sarcasm. Within two days of starting this diary, my father has been shot.

He is doing well. Let me start back where I left off. After picking up Frasier from the airport, we went to the hospital where Dad and Frasier just constantly were bickering. There was verbal mud-slinging in every direction. After an entire day of altercating, Frasier decided that his visit wasn't doing Dad any good and he flew back to Boston that very night.

A few days later, Dad was released from the hospital. He refused to stay in our place so Maris and I, with the aid of Frank, took him back to his place. Maris refused to stay in such small quarters, so I had her bring some of my things over so I could stay with Dad for a week or so. Actually, I think Maris was still upset at Dad for having her car booted.

He regretfully uses his walker, but I can see his frustrations are setting in. He used to keep the streets safe and now he can't go to the washroom without assistance.

We decided to have a late Thanksgiving dinner at Dad's apartment. Maris exhausted herself by stuffing the turkey. On her behalf, it was the largest turkey we have every prepared between the two of us. It was 11 pounds. While Maris was sleeping it off, I finished preparing the turkey along with a spiral ham, candied yams, and some sort of cranberry sauce that Dad likes with orange peels in it.

By the time it was ready to serve, I woke Maris up. Dad continued to comment on the nice tablecloth that we had bought for the occasion and kept saying it must be polyester. Damn him, he knew Maris was allergic to polyester. She began sobbing and locked herself in the bathroom. I tried to talk her out, but it was of no avail. I started to carve the turkey when _Frank_ came over with a pizza and some beer. He and Dad ate pizza and drank while watching some sort of sporting event on TV. Such was my Thanksgiving 1991.


	4. 1991 12 14

DEC 14th, 1991 – Dad appears to be doing so much better. He has not advanced from his walker, but you should have seen how quickly he moved with it when he threw my things into the hallway outside his apartment door and it was really quite impressive on the amount of force it must have taken for him to slam his door on me like that.

I am in my den at home now with my snifter of brandy as the sun sets. Although Dad could only tolerate me for nine days, it's good to be back home again. The way things ended between us was a little rattling, but it was great to return to my comfortably understanding Maris. And she _**will**_ understand just as soon as she returns from her week-long exfoliating steam therapy treatment in Denver, Colorado. Spending time in Dad's apartment was a little too much for her.

Frasier called again to see how Dad is. Something tells me that Frasier won't be home for Christmas this year.

On an uplifting note, to get over my "wonderful visit" with my father, I treated myself to a day spa and had a two hour scalp massage and an excellent foot rub. There is nothing like a deep tissue foot rub to allow you to enjoy your brandy that much more. Believe it or not, I am looking forward to getting back to my practice on Monday.


	5. 1991 12 24

DEC 24th, 1991 – I am up late - so excited about going over to Dad's place tomorrow morning to open gifts. I think he will really enjoy the gift that Maris and I got him. Well… Maris wouldn't have anything to do with it, but she allowed me to get it for Dad.

I took Maris out for dinner tonight at the fabulous Orsini's. We were seated at a table next to an Italian soccer team. Maris announced she was in the mood for a goose, and, perhaps inevitably… she received several of them. We had to be moved to another table on the other side of the restaurant.


	6. 1991 12 25

DEC 25th, 1991 – What a glorious Christmas this was, although Maris couldn't join me over at Dad's. She was convinced that the slumber mask did not cause the lines under her eyes and slumped at breakfast… I know it wasn't meant to be.

When Dad opened the door to his apartment, his eyes sparkled like I haven't seen them dance like that in years. Frasier had sent him the gift that keeps giving: a Boston Beer of the Month Club Membership, but nothing may ever compare to the Jack Russell Terrier puppy that I was holding this morning at his apartment door. He was so happy with him that he played with him the entire time of my visit. The puppy kept licking his face. I figured with Dad in more solitaire than what he was accustomed to, this would be good therapy for him. I don't think this is a Christmas Dad will soon forget.


	7. 1992 01 20

JAN 20th, 1992 – Obviously, Dad has named his dog Eddie. He has called me more in the past month than he has all last year. He calls to thank me again and again for Eddie. Eddie this and Eddie that. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He calls me at home and he calls to leave me messages at work. He calls me to tell me how Eddie rolled over. He calls to tell me how Eddie looks like he's smiling when he pants. He called to tell me Eddie spoke his first words, "Mar-ty". Actually I couldn't be more delighted that Dad likes the dog so much. I just wish I would have gotten him another goldfish. I have to budget another hour in my day to go pick up pet supplies at stores where they let the customers actually bring their pets into the store. I get strange looks while in the store, but I don't feel comfortable without my handkerchief over my mouth and nose. AND WHAT IS WITH EDDIE STARING AT ME ALL OF THE TIME WHEN I GO OVER?

I have a new patient that I find phenomenally intriguing. We'll call him… patient "X". Mr. "X" has the most fascinating dreams. Usually they are quite challenging to interpret. He's been dreaming about running through a dark wooded area being chased by someone. We've gone into deep analysis of his fears, relationships, and childhood. It is getting quite interesting. Each time he has this dream, his pursuer keeps getting closer. Yesterday, he said that he finally caught a glimpse of who was chasing him. It was Raquel Welch scantily dressed. I immediately prescribed sleeping pills to help him sleep more often. Honestly, the man had no sense of humor.


	8. 1992 03 08

March 8th 1992

My intentions were to contribute to this book quite more often than I found myself doing, but I found myself buried in my work more times than not even on my off-time. My fear of commitment group seems to be falling apart. Their attendance has subsided, but I have high-hopes that some of the members will someday return. I have spent many hours in my study lately. One would think that I would find myself updating my diary, yet I find myself too intrigued with my case studies from work. I seem to have been spending less time with Maris and she seems to be getting… shall I say… a little bit self-centered and a trifle self-absorbing. Just last month, she took a flight to spend three days in Paris completely unaccompanied. Along with my fear of commitment group, I have a few patients dealing with intimacy avoidance and I have found their circumstances weighing heavily on myself. For Valentine's Day, I felt somewhat empty and troubled. Maris can't have chocolates. She breaks out in hives and she is allergic to any plant baring pollen. So I took her out to dinner at a quaint little restaurant. It was a quiet evening. Dining out causes Maris to tire easily. She has to fight to keep from wanting to ask more of the dining staff when she is used to the staff at home. That evening, she caught herself asking our waiter to massage her feet and she stopped herself in mid-sentence when asking the maître d to draw her bath. I will plan a romantic evening at home. I will update you with the results. Of course, you will only get the PG version.


	9. 1992 03 29

March 29th 1992

The evening was jejune at best. I started my plans of a very romantic evening with a bouquet of two dozen paper flowers. Maris has hay fever, you know. We laughed so hard when she pretended to smell them. The laughter we shared diminished when she received a paper cut on the tip of her nose.

I treated her to the opera Le Misèrables. Enjolras stifled while singing "Dawn of Anguish" in the second act to glare up at us in the balcony. Maris was completely horrified when I woke her to inform her that the entire production was at a stand-still because the cast has mistaken Maris' snoring for a noisy cell phone that no one would answer. Needless to say, we left so quickly, Maris wouldn't allow me time to retrieve our garments from the coat check.

I tried to salvage the evening by having the servants draw her a hot bubble bath to soak in while I prepared a wonderful dinner for the two of us… I blame myself for that one. I was so excited about preparing my Duck a l'Orange with Herbed Pommes Frites, that I had completely blocked out the fact that Maris' prunes easily in water. While mincing my garlic cloves and shallot, Maris was soaking her way into a deeper pruney depression.

I lit some unscented candles. Although she likes candle light, she has a sensitive allergy to any scented candles. The place was romantically lit with one candle for every year we had been together.

It would have been nice to pick out an aria to play in the background, but Maris wouldn't allow that. We don't converse at meal times. Maris likes silence while dining. She prefers to hear herself chew in order to prevent choking if anything should go a foul when eating.

Sometimes love is knowing each other's idiosyncrasies, no matter how many there may be.

The rest of the evening has to do with a lot of sobbing as the servants assisted me in de-pruning Maris' skin.


	10. 1992 05 05

May 5th 1992

My heart is pounding! The true love of my life has bestowed a breath of life into me like I have not felt in years. Frasier called and gave me news that has filled my heart and soul with joy beyond compare. He tells me that he was contacted by a wine master of Donnafugata Winery in Sicily. He has been invited to their winery later this month and wants me to meet him there. When I asked Maris about it, she was in her deep meditation yoga, but her left eye brown twitched, which, if memory serves, means that she approves. I think she is going to The Festival of Feathers of some sort later this month. I am so delighted. Donnafugata has such wonderful treasures of delights sealed in each bottle. We will land in Catania and rent a car to travel either to Palermo or Agrigento and then to the Contessa Entellina and spend the night at the winery. I can hardly contain myself.

At the office I was working with a client with agoraphobia. I have never made house calls before taking on this particular client. We made massive strides in progress the other day by going out for coffee together. I treated him and even carried his coffee over to the table. I had to because he remained wrapped around my left leg the entire time. Progress sometimes comes in baby steps.


	11. 1992 05 25

May 25th 1992

Frasier, still lacking in the grooming standards instilled into us by our father, and I arrived in Roma (a.k.a. Rome). We caught our transfer flight to Catania where we rented a nice vehicle called a Nissan Skyline. Luckily I had brought my nasal spray. Frasier insisted on rolling his window down for fresh air, yet there was an unseen whisper of ash in the air from Mount Etna. Though our flight to Italy was long, Frasier still insisted upon driving the entire length of our vehicular journey from the east coast of Sicily to the west. It was great catching up with him. He mentioned out "interesting" his friend Woody's wedding was and then went on to tell me how his favorite bar had a major fire. He wanted to stay and help with the clean-up, but it had gotten to the point where they needed to step aside to let the construction crew do the restoration.

We hit heavy traffic in Palermo, but made up for some lost time when we cleared the city. Marsala was wonderful… wonderfully confusing. The layout of the city was aggravating. With the consideration of the way Frasier was driving, it was surprising that we found our hotel at all. Our hotel was the Best Western. It was rated as a four star, but in Europe, with the consideration of the standards of the hotels which are in the United States, we tend to always conveniently disregard a star.

It was a nice place. There was a church around the corner from our hotel and down the street was an authentic dining facility called "Divino Rosso", which translates to "Devine Red". We sat out at one of the tables in the street. The weather was quite captivating for dining. I ordered the Roasted Chicken Cutlet and "the Casa Bianco Vino" (The house white wine).

I asked Frasier how Lilith was doing. He tipped his glass of wine, taking down gulps until the last dropped touched his tongue. Then he swallowed and replied, "As pale as ever."

Then he asked about Maris. "Touché" I responded and we shared a good laugh.


	12. 1992 05 26

May 26th 1992

The Donnafugatta Winery was completely breath-taking! Their organization and cleanliness was paramount. Their historic wine cellars of Marsala, we entered via a platform to view the immaculate rows and rows of wine barrels. Frasier and I lagged behind to enjoy its ambiance, but the guide insisted that we stay with the group. After her fifth appeal to us and the rest of the group physically insisting that we join them by prying our hands off of the railing, we regretfully complied. How rude! I said it and I'll admit it: I said it OUT LOUD!

I would like to note that that was our only embarrassment during the tour, but the pressure to outdo each other steadily assented from the abyss of subconscious which could not contain our sibling rivalry. Frasier and I continuously attempted to pursue the advantage of showing each other up by demonstrating to the group our vast knowledge of each portion of the tour before the tour guide had a chance to speak. I could tell that Frasier had been studying up on the winery before he had even left the states. Our desire to be better than each other acted as blinders and we didn't notice the line we had crossed. We started to interrupt the tour guide by attempting to finish each one of her sentences. We were so insistent, that when we finished her sentences, we weren't even making sense as we started to elbow each other. Needless to say, we are now banished from ever returning to the Donnafugata winery. (heavy sigh).

Frasier and I apologized to each other afterwards… of course too late to save our reputations with the winery. We decided to lift our spirits by finding a place to get a message.


	13. 1992 05 27

May 27th 1992

Today was our day to drive south along the cost to the Planeta Winery. After our devastating "escorted exit" from Donnafugato, we were looking forward to our second winery trip. At Planeta, we stayed the night. The resort was beautiful with vineyards all around and a wonderful view of the mountains and ocean in the distance. It is a memory I will hold true for the rest of my life. Wine tasting was not the main idea at Planeta Winery, believe it or not. It was the dinner we had there. The table sat thirty strong with large glass windows to the kitchen. We sat watching the chef prepare our entrees and pre-paid a little extra to have the chef's wine suggestion with each of his signature dishes. We were having a wonderful time talking and joking with the other guests and the wine was flowing like water. Then to my dismay, I heard sobbing. When I looked over to my right, I found Frasier's chair empty. I discovered him under the table weeping like a toddler. Well, here the Crane boys strike again. I believe mom coined the phrase that "when we make a scene, we never fail to be seen" and, might I add, "we always go theatrical with it". Perhaps we had too much wine. We were so embarrassed, that we excused ourselves and spent the rest of the night talking about Frasier's feelings. It so happens that the last time he was in Italy, he had been engaged to a different woman who had left him at the alter. Inevitably, he had bottled that up inside himself and wasn't quite over it as he thought he was. Hind sight is 20/20. When we dismissed ourselves from the dinner, we should have left the table and gone back to our room. Instead, we carried on our lengthy conversation of Frasier's emotions under the dining table.

In the morning, we obviously decided to have breakfast delivered to our room.


	14. 1992 05 28

May 28th 1992

On our trip back to Catania, we stopped to view Valle dei Templi (a.k.a The Valley of the Temples). The ruins of The Temple of Hercules and The Temple of Castor and Pollux were quite breath-taking.

It was really great spending time with Frasier again. Other than our sibling rivalry and unfortunate outbursts, I think the weekend went well.

Today we head back to the states. It sure is funny how going back to the states, you arrive on the same day where coming over to Italy, one tends to arrive the next day. Blame it on flying from and chasing the sun.

I took the next few days off to rest up. I will visit with dad and have photos to show him.


	15. 1992 06 25

June 25th 1992

I certainly miss being able to talk face to face with Frasier. I find myself calling him more and more. There we were in Italy, letting our sibling rivalry get the better of us and were black balled from one of the finer wineries of Sicily and then completely embarrassed ourselves under the dinner table at the Planeta Winery. Overall, I would say that that has been our most successful trip together.

I felt so bad for a patient at work. I was working with someone with a fear of abandonment, of all things, when my secretary patched through an emergency call from Maris. It appears she was depressed with our recent purchase of draperies and decided to take some time to pamper herself by pouring herself a glass of wine and doing her nails. Maris never does her nails. She always has them done, so this decision was probably made after her partake with the grape. You see, at her body weight, it doesn't take much alcohol before her judgment is out the window. Maris was frantic when she called. It appears that she had fallen asleep while waiting for her nails to dry and her toenails dried into the shag rug. The pour thing couldn't muster the strength to set herself free. I told her I was in a session and asked that she seek help from the servants, however, no one came when she called. She knew they were in the house. She could hear them snickering. I was appalled to have to abandon my fear of abandonment patient to go home to free Maris.


	16. 1992 07 15

July 15th 1992

This last weekend, Dad went on a weekend trip with his friend. It was some type of reunion he couldn't stop talking about. He asked me to watch over Eddie while he was gone. With Maris' allergies and low tolerance for any small animal behavior, it meant I was to stay the weekend over at my father's apartment. Eddie watched me scour and mop the kitchen, bleach the bathroom, vacuum the apartment and reorganize the kitchen cupboards according to dish size and probability of usage. I took the little fellow on walks, we ate our meals together, and I scratched his tummy once. He is a very good listener. He watched me with great anticipation throughout the afternoon as I explained the complexities of my relationship with Maris to him. Come to think of it, he is the only listener who survived this conversation without having to hold back a snicker or pretend to cough with a half laugh. I thanked Eddie by giving him a hug… and then marched into the bathroom to wash my hands and face.


	17. 1992 08 06

August 6th 1992

Dearest diary, sorry that I haven't written in quite some time. Maris had misplaced this book after she borrowed it one evening without my knowledge. It appears that she had seen an arachnid from the corner of her eye one evening and didn't want to go to bed empty handed. Thus, she took my diary to bed as a weapon. Just the other night, I heard such a commotion that I dashed from my room and into Maris' in fear of her safety. She was in the corner of the room clouting something on the floor. I rushed to her aid. She was trembling and angry. She had taken down her first spider. I just couldn't take this victory from her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a dust ball. If she would have known the truth, she would have had all of the cleaning staff fired by sunrise.


	18. 1992 09 05

September 5th 1992

My last patient of the day called to cancel. He is a kleptomaniac who was incarcerated this afternoon at a "Quicky Lube". He felt like he could slip passed the employees with four cases of oil and something called a "dip stick". Unfortunately, that name will stick with him throughout his remaining time in the big house.

When my secretary asked why he called my office and not his mother to bail him out, he declared that last month he, quote-unquote, "hocked" his mother's house phone and she hasn't spoken to him since.

Now I have an opening in my schedule. Perhaps a patient will call with schizophrenia. You know, they never complain if they are double billed in error.

Maris is quite enjoying her new Mercedes Benz I bought her for her fortieth birthday this year. It is nearly impossible to find an adult booster seat to match the interior of the new Mercedes Benzes. For the most part, she'll have one of the staff members drive her around in it. She put the booster seat in the back where she sits. She would sit in the front passenger seat, but sitting up front makes her car sick.

Frasier has stopped returning my calls. I must have left him a half-dozen messages. Perhaps he has gone through a tragedy of some sort. If he had, Lilith would have called. This isn't the first time he has shut me out. When Frasier was in the eighth grade, I, inadvertently, jumped on his brand new clarinet. His high C was never the same. Or perhaps he is still holding a grudge against how we got kicked out of the Donnafugatta Winery in Sicily back in May.

Whether it be "yay" or "nay", I choose not to get into a temperament dismay and sit here in this café enjoying my double-cappuccino. What a splendid java nook. Ah, my regular haunt.


	19. 1992 09 28

September 28th 1992

Tonight, we celebrate. Maris thinks she has discovered that she is developing a calf muscle on her right leg. Her yoga practices must be paying off. She is so daring that she is now walking around the house in her fuzzy slippers and robe, taking every opportunity she can to reveal her new muscle. She mentioned that if she keeps this up, she will have the legs of a ballerina. We laughed together. We both very-well know that even the thought of her attempt at a spin, would throw her equilibrium into a tizzy.

I plan to bake her a cake to help celebrate. Of course it will have to be sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free and dairy-free. It truly is hard to get happy with a cake like that.

A long-term patient of mine… (for sake of argument, I will provide my diary with a fictitious name)… Mrs. Steingritter, has been seeing me for depression and fits of anti-self-gratification she has been experiencing since divorcing her husband four years ago. We have been making great strides in restoring her self-worth and admiration of her beautiful qualities. Although I have been attempting to convince her of trying to date again, I still think she is lacking in self-confidence. The other day, she was so worried on what to wear to entice a man, she came to our session to see what I would think of her nightgown she wore underneath her trench coat.


	20. 1992 10 06

October 6th 1992

What am I feeling at this moment? What is this? It is some sort of eclectic bouquet of mixed emotions. Never have I pushed appointments back to have a long lunch period and yet forgo lunch to come to Café Nervosa to sip a cappuccino while I try to sort my life out. Darn, I wrote that in pen. I meant to say, "try to process the events that just took place." I could white it out, but then it just wouldn't look right, you know.

"Mrs. Steingritter" wanted to extend our sessions to evenings. She wanted more than just session time. Today during our session, she leaned into me and kissed me right on the mouth.

I didn't reciprocate. So, why am I so mad? I'm more than angered. I'm hurt, scared, confused, puzzled, anxious, rejected… Did I just write that? Rejected? How do I feel rejected? Did I mentioned confused? Why yes I did, didn't I? It's right there in black and white.

Needless to say, Mrs. Steingritter is no longer a patient of mine. Why, I am a happily married man. I have no interest in romance. I have my Maris. That actually sounded better in my mind than it did written out. I differed Mrs. Steingritter to another psychologist.

Why am I so tethered with emotions? I reacted appropriately. Action/reaction. I remained professional.

To hell with it. I am going to do something crazy. I'm having another cappuccino and don't hold back any foam this time. Let me be damned with caffeine intake.

Oh, what dark hole am I crawling out of this time? Since there is no one to talk to, (of course there is no way I am sharing this with Dad), I am forced to sit here and have this silent conversation with myself. Luckily, I can get free advice from a professional psychologist: me. Taking myself out of the equation, I can look at the elements of the situation.

Yes, that's it. For the first time in years, a woman has paid me more attention in one day than my wife has in months… Nay, in years.

That's it. Oh, I wish I had brought my brief case in so I could slam it shut.


	21. 1992 11 15

November 15th 1992

Maris and I attended a costume party for Halloween. One of her friends suggested that we go as a cactus and balloon. Although Maris liked the idea, with her small frame, she looked more like a dried prune rather than an inflated balloon. It didn't take many prune jokes for Maris to develop one of her head aches. We left early. Poor thing slumped over like a depressed California Raisin.

Dad will be coming over for Thanksgiving this year. With last year's fiasco ingrained in our minds, Maris insists on having the dinner catered. She doesn't even want to think about the awful things one must do to create stuffing. The other day she became light headed at the supermarket when we passed the Stove Top Stuffing aisle.


	22. 1993 01 30

January 30th 1993

We had a quiet little Christmas this year. There was only a day of snow this season and it was several days before Christmas Day. Maris, quite more festive this year than she normally is, purchased a snow cone machine and had the gardeners crank out shaved ice to pack along the walkway to resemble snow. I felt sorry for them. They received arm cramps from cranking that little ice shaver.

We rang in the new year with a soiree at our house. It was composed mostly of Maris' friends which made it especially difficult when she retired to her bed early from exhaustion of watching the servants catering to the door as the guests arrived.

Speaking of gardeners, it was our gardener's birthday last week. Yoshi turned 38. Although Maris wanted to go with a more practical gift, I didn't think a new pair of shears would do. Dad suggested something called a "Chia Pet", which to this day, I have no idea what that is, let alone what a "Chia" eats and if it can be house broken. Instead, I purchased a Bonsai tree for him. He was so proud of it. He said that he would put it on the back of his lavatory tank to remind him of us at all times.


	23. 1993 02 04

February 4th 1993

Last night I dreamt that I was a super hero. It wasn't a reoccurring dream, but it was quite fascinating. Dreaming of the ability of flight often associates with a recent positive experience or the feeling of being wonderful, capable and free. The only problem was that I could only fly if the wind was just right. I kept bouncing off of buildings. Also every time I would be called to duty, Maris would call me on my cell phone and I would get my cape caught in the elevator or I would be fumbling with the phone while saving people from a world disaster. Needless to say, a superhero should never have to wear those tights. They kept riding up. How annoying when one is trying to stop a speeding meteor.

Dreams of being a superhero usually indicate the coping with some unusual strain or difficulty; perhaps in the family, economical struggles, or a conflict. I don't think any of them apply here.

As I sit here sipping my Latte and nibbling at my Madeleine, the café is piping in a most offensive song to all who live in Seattle. How dare they? Don't they know that people have feelings? It's that most hideous song, "I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Is Gone".


	24. 1993 02 28

February 28th 1993

Dad called last night with questions about an intake valve. At first, I thought that he had purchased some sort of respirator. Then, during the conversation, I realized that he was talking about some sort of mechanical portion of his vehicle. I took great offense to him lashing these crude jokes of my knowledge and expertise of the components that make his vehicle run properly. Then I was beside myself when I realized that he must have been groggy from a late afternoon slumber. Sometimes I worry about him.

I should visit him more often. I sure miss bonding with him while he makes verbal assaults at Maris' expense and how he complains that I know absolutely nothing about sports. And then there's Eddie. At this point in my diary, I don't have to note how his constant staring is driving me up the wall. Isn't there some sort of dog candy that I can give him that would make him fixate on pastel colors? I never wear pastels.

Perhaps I will bring Dad something. I'll have Maris heat up a store bought pie or cobbler. That is about the extent of Maris' baking ability. It still brings a sad smile to my face when I think of the time that she tried to make scrambled eggs and cheese… in a frying pan… in the oven.


	25. 1993 03 31

March 31th 1993

Maris has decided have a little project for the months of February and March. She is having the help transport a truck load of modeling clay into her workspace. She was creating a life-sized statue of Charles Wolcott, the uncredited music composer of "Cat On A Hot Tin Roof". Although I try to support her so-called "projects", she tends to give up after about a week of working on one statue and starts another, still trying to capture Mr. Wolcott in realistic glory. One night, they startled me beyond belief when I entered her work space. The unfinished statues resembled a grouping of zombies from Night of the Living Dead.

I have convinced our maid; Marta to help me down scale the statues every other night after Maris has gone to bed. I think she is on to us. She will believe that the clay will only shrink so much when drying.


	26. 1993 04 15

April 15th 1993

Maris and I went to a formal "Dinner and Mystery Fund Raiser". It is quite an intriguing concept. It's a hundred dollars a plate. During the dining, the hosts of the evening offer clues that will lead you to the charity they are supporting. One makes donations along the way even before the charity is revealed. It's according to how much fun one is having and the one to make the biggest donation before the charity is revealed, looks like a hero and gets a standing ovation from everyone. Well, you can imagine the embarrassment Maris felt when she got up to use the powder room during the evening and someone called out "Anorexia!" Maris stayed in the ladies room the entire evening. No one could coax her out. She staying in there two hours after the fund raiser was completely over. They called the fire department to go in and escort her out. Maris was so upset that she had me stop my donation check. Now I am known around the city in many social circles as "The Anorexia Check Giver"… because my checks seem to keep shrinking.

Dad paid us a visit a few weeks back. We were on to him because he never offers to come over. Still, it was to our surprise to find that he had painted the soap in Maris' shower with clear nail polish. I hope he's happy. Maris went to her dermatologist twice that afternoon before I was able to get home from work to calm her down.

Revenge is a dish best served cold Dad. It's never too late to get you back. I was thinking, perhaps, "paying him a visit" and covertly putting lemon pepper into his pepper shaker. Never mess with Niles Crane!


	27. 1993 05 16

May 16th 1993

I received a call from Frasier. It was completely out of the blue. Apparently, he has arrived in Seattle. He has decided to move back here… and he has filed for divorce, so Lilith and Fredrick are back in Boston. I do wish happiness upon my brother, but I give him six months before he goes back to Boston to pick up where his marriage left off.

Frasier has mentioned something about working for a radio station. Frankly, it has been so long since he has cared to pick up a phone or write that I kept drifting during the conversation. Obviously, he has given up his profession to become some sort of disc jockey.

Inevitably, I will need to talk him out of this and have him return to his practice. I have invited him over on the 20th for dinner and spirits. I will have to beg Maris to make her signature mashed potato dish. Mashed potatoes that hold like thinned Cream of Wheat is nothing to boast about, however it is all I can do to get her involved in the kitchen.


	28. 1993 05 21

May 21st 1993

Oh, where do I begin? I prepared a Duck a l'Orange for Frasier's homecoming dinner the other night. Frasier loves my Duck a l'Orange, but one would not be able to tell. His mind was obviously elsewhere. Maris seemed quite content as Frasier seemingly kept his thoughts to himself. She likes to eat in silence in order to hear herself chew. That way, if she started to choke, she could tell one second earlier by the sounds she makes rather than the actual choking. Sometimes she softly hums in rhythm of her chewing. Frasier just could not refrain from shooting me looks when he heard her do just that.

I had several imported wines ready to breathe from the uncorking, however Frasier had asked what type of beer I had. Beer?! Of all things so foul. I had known that Frasier had moved across the continent when living in Boston, but I hadn't realized just "how far away" he actually was. Obviously, it will take some doing to redefine his pallet. Challenge accepted.

Frasier was staying at the W hotel while looking for a place. I offered to help him look, but he kept quiet. Has he gone mad? My taste and refinement would benefit him to no end. I suggested a glorious sky rise called "The Montana". It really does have an excellent reputation. Frasier didn't even flinch at that suggestion. Just as well, there is quite a waiting list before even meeting with the board to have your application reviewed.

Just as well, Frasier seems to be dancing to his own tune these days. Not only did he neglect to react to my suggestion of "The Montana"… not even a raising of a single brow… but he is making a mockery of our profession. I was wrong about him become a radio announcer. He will be taking calls and dispensing instant diagnoses and suggestions for people in need of actual therapy. The man has sold out faster than a Barbara Streisand concert.

Today, I found Frasier seated in my coffee shop I frequent. He persisted in having coffee with me. I so wanted a great cup of espresso and a moment of solitude to read my paper. Diary, can you believe Frasier is drinking his coffee black. That pallet surely has taken a ninety degree turn in Boston. Challenge accepted.

I coxed him in joining me with my weekly visit with Dad, since he failed to muster the strength and courage to do it alone.


	29. 1993 05 28

May 28th 1993

Dad has fallen again. He was found by one of his friends on his bathroom floor. Before, Dad had been able to pick himself up or at least get to the phone. In fear that he can no longer live alone, I called Frasier to my café' regular to discuss this and Frasier insisted that Dad come live with him. Why, he was so excited about Dad moving in that he wanted to run right out to help Dad move. Well, that's the way I recall it.

Maris bought a new floor scale the other day. She is most displeased with it. It is most unusual. It seems that the digital counter won't begin to display unless there is an initial weight of 75 pounds or more. Thus, I must stand on the scale to activate it before she can use it. She tried to activate it herself once by holding a sack of flour our maid, Marta, gave her, but the poor thing couldn't muster the strength to hold it long enough for the activation.

I helped Dad move into Frasier's apartment. Frasier found himself a nice place on the 19th floor on the counter-balance of Queen Ann Hill at a place called Elliot Bay Towers. Beside the fact that he decorated by himself without even a subtle quest for my opinion, the place looks quite pleasing. The view is incredible. Dad was so excited to be there, he quickly comforted himself on Frasier's Coco Chanel couch and began complimenting Frasier's décor. Well… that's how I recall it.


	30. 1993 06 06

June 6th 1993

Frasier seems to be having some difficulty dealing with boundaries with Dad living there. It's been about a week now and Frasier seems to be wanting to pull out what little hair he has left. Maris and I have been discussing their situation and have decided to help by helping to pay for a care worker. I have made arrangements for an agency to send over some people for interviews at Frasier's. This ought to be interesting to say the least. I wonder if Frasier and Dad will be able to agree on any of them. I sure would like to be a fly on the wall during those interviews.

Maris has taken up fencing. Wowe to the cost of it all. You would not believe the expenses we have invested in having a sword and face mask designed light enough for Maris to fence with, not to mention the gloves with re-enforced wrist wraps to prevent wrist sprain. With her weight and height, she fences with the 5th grader's league. She enjoys it so. After each session, she goes to the day spay to unwind from her frustrating losses. She did in fact have a win last week. One of the little girls refused to fence "the scary, skinny scarecrow lady." I purchased a small trophy to mark the momentous occasion. She has our house-maid dust it twice a day.

Someone on our staff thought it would be funny to put a bunch of plastic cock-tail swords in it. Well, let me tell you, Maris was furious. No one would admit to it. She donned her fencing gear threatening to battle each of our staff until someone came clean. After I talked her down from that AND got the staff to stop snickering at her, she made me purchase a glass case that locks. This way, she can keep it safe and still have it displayed.


	31. 1993 06 07

June 7th 1993

Oh my heavens, I met the most compelling person last night. She had long, flowing chestnut hair and eyes of clover-leaf honey. And that enticing Manchester accent is just… well, enticing. She is Dad's health care worker. Her name is Daphne Moon. What an enchanting name. It instantly reminded me of that Christopher Cross song about being caught between the moon and New York City.

What a beautiful evening. I felt like singing in the rain rather than joining Dad and Frasier to dine at a place called the Timber Mill. I can safely assume that they arrived at that name from how their steaks were as tough as wood. The ambiance was quite amusing which included a very good portion of my Hugo Boss tie which was lacerated from my very own attire.

Earlier today, I worked with a new patient. He claimed that intelligent people tend to make him violently angry. When he asked what he should do, I bravely replied, "I don't know."

It was a beautifully brilliant, luminescent full moon last night. There's that word again: "Moon".


End file.
